


We’ve Wandered Many A Weary Foot

by red_crate



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Incest, Kissing, M/M, New Year's Eve, POV Derek Hale, Pack Dynamics, Post Hale Fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 19:30:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13219653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/pseuds/red_crate
Summary: Derek just wants to take the pain away, fix the fact that nothing is the same anymore.





	We’ve Wandered Many A Weary Foot

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Give Peter a New Year's Kiss event. Title from "Auld Lang Syne".
> 
> This is about 50% more angsty than initially planned lol.

”What about Peter?” Derek finds himself asking Laura in a hushed tone. He's sitting next to her on the couch in their New York apartment, holding a carton of low mein in one hand. He stabs at the noodles with a plastic fork. “Should we get him?”

Peter, their uncle, is in his bedroom—where he's been cooping himself up for days. Laura is fed up with it, but she hasn't actually said anything to him about his hostile silence. Derek doesn't know if she ever will though. 

Everyone is still too raw, even a year later. 

Laura ignores the question and turns up the volume on the TV until Dick Clark's voice is booming throughout the living room. He's introducing the Jonas Brothers who are going to perform next. She's just as stubborn as their mother and uncle. 

With a sigh, Derek stands up to put his food in the refrigerator. He's not really hungry, and everything about tonight feels off anyway. 

_ Of course it's off _ , he think to himself,  _ half your family is dead _ . 

There are no little kids begging to stay up until the ball drops, no indulging family members. His mom isn't here to lead the tradition New Year's run. The three of them haven't run together once since they left Beacon Hills. It chafes. Nothing is the same. 

Nothing is ever the same and will never be the same. 

Derek leaves his sister to glare at the TV and heads towards the bedrooms. Maybe he can just sleep through it. Maybe that's what Peter's been trying to do. 

He stops at Peter's door and knocks softly, hesitantly. No answer. When he tries the handle, it's unlocked. Derek sucks in a fortifying breath and pushes it open. 

Peter is in bed, but he isn't asleep. He's lying in the muted darkness, curled on his good side. The burn scars on the side of his face shine a bit in the street light streaming in from his window. 

“Peter.” Derek croaks the word out, taking a step inside. 

There is no obvious acknowledgement, but Derek can hear the catch in Peter's breath. He moves closer, close enough to perch on the side of the bed. His arms fold around himself unconsciously. 

He and Peter used to be pretty close, close like brothers and friends more than uncle-nephew. The smaller age gap has a lot to do with it,though Laura never really got along with Peter despite being fewer than five years younger than him instead of the eight that separate Derek and Peter. Since the fire, however, Peter has withdrawn to previously uncharacteristically isolated behavior. 

Derek can't fault him too much, not when all three of them have changed so much. 

He tries again. “Can I…?” 

When he was little, he used to crawl into Peter's bed and listen to the far-fetched stories his uncle would make up for him. Now, he awkwardly shifts until he's lying on his back while Peter still doesn't move. 

Derek stays quiet. He can hear the concert playing on the TV, hear Laura's heartbeat all the way from the living room. Peter's pulse a louder counterpoint to their alpha’s. 

He sighs and turns on his side. 

Peter is already looking at him. His eyes are dark and the one of his scarred side droops just a bit. He's still healing, but it's slow—slow and agonizing as far as Derek has been able to tell. They can't figure out why he's taking so long to heal even though he's with the remainder of his pack. 

Derek reaches out a hesitant hand, then lets his finger tips traces along the smooth skin. It feels foreign. When Peter doesn't snap at him or jerk away, Derek cups his palm around Peter's cheek. Pain blazes across his own face and down his neck. 

Strong fingers wrap suddenly around his wrist. 

Peter is frowning when he demands, “Don't.” 

Derek stops pulling the pain and his face feels numb for a moment. He blinks at Peter. “Why didn't you say anything?” 

“You knew. Both of you. Did you expect healing from this kind of injury wouldn't be painful?” He hasn't let go of Derek's wrist yet. 

Derek hurts. He hurts inside and in his head, and he can't picture that pain ever healing over. 

He whispers, “No.” 

Peter loosens his grip on Derek's wrist but doesn't let go, just drops their hands down sto they rest on the bed between them.

Silence descends once more, only interrupted by the excited counting of people on the TV in the living room. 

_ Ten _

_ Nine _

_ Eight _

Derek just wants to take the pain away, fix the fact that nothing is the same anymore. 

_ Seven  _

_ Six _

He wants to feel anything besides hurt or nothing. 

_ Five _

_ Four _

_ Three _

He wants to see Peter smile again or hear his snark without it being too-mean. 

_ Two _

_ One _

Derek shifts and presses forward until his lips meet Peter's. It's a tradition for a lot of people.  _ Kiss the person you want to spend the rest of the year with.  _

He doesn't want to lose anyone else. He can't. 

His eyes shut tightly, and he pours all his desperation and hope into the kiss. Peter is unresponsive at first, but then his fingers slide up Derek's forearm and he presses closer. 

When they part, Derek realizes they're legs are hooked together and one of his hands has slipped below the hem of Peter's shirt. It's comforting. 

“Happy new year.” He says the words quietly. 

There's a ghost of a smile on Peter's face. It's better than Derek dared hope for. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Come hang out with me on Tumblr](http://the-redcrate.tumblr.com).


End file.
